


Hetalia Holidays

by Kuramichan



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cute, Explicit Language, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:37:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuramichan/pseuds/Kuramichan
Summary: The countries are celebrating the holidays, but none of them are alone. Join in the shipping madness >:D





	1. New Year's - Spamano

He had no idea why he was in Spain’s dining room, partaking in an elaborately-made meal with a side of wine. Wait, scratch that, Romano knew exactly why he was there. Spain called him exactly two days prior, upset that the new year was right around the corner and he had no one to celebrate it with. After listening to half an hour of incessant blubbering, he’d had enough and told the idiot to make sure he prepared the guest room and pasta for dinner.

Still, having Spain sit across from him wearing that ridiculous grin on his face gave Romano the thought that it wouldn’t be so bad if his food turned out to be poisoned. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that he’d clearly come of his own volition instead of simply telling Spain to “fuck off”. Now he was spending New Year’s Eve alone with his once-boss. And as much as it pissed him off to think about it, Romano was enjoying Spain’s home cooked dinner. 

The Spaniard, meanwhile, was clearly happy with himself, probably knowing just as well as he that South Italy chose to be there. The atmosphere was pleasant enough though, normal and reminiscent of the time they shared long ago. 

“I know what you’re trying to do. Alcohol isn’t that effective on me, I’m Italian dammit.” His narrowed gaze followed Spain’s hands as they poured more wine into Romano’s glass without his asking. Per usual, the nation’s cheery smile didn’t so much as waver.

“If that’s true, then this much should be fine, Roma.” He sat back in his chair to continue eating. _Oh goddammit._ Romano sulked, knowing he’d just dug himself into a hole that arguing would not get him out of.

Once their very late dinner was finished and dishes were piled up in the sink, they had an hour left to kill before midnight. At Spain’s insistence, a movie was pulled up onto the television screen and Romano found himself watching a Spanish film for the first time in his life.

While the Italian situated himself on the couch wherever he damn well pleased, Spain chose a seat close enough for their shoulders to nearly brush. Romano would have told him to move over, he decided it best not to bring to attention the rising nervousness in his stomach. So instead, he kept quiet and zoned out as the movie played; Romano was only there to humor Spain after all, nothing else.

A while into the movie, Spain without warning, stretched out and laid his head right on South Italy’s lap. The Italian’s arm instantly wound its way around the male to pull him closer. And in that moment he froze with panic. Silently damning North Italy to Hell for all the times he’d curled up to his big brother and causing him to react automatically, Romano feared that moving or telling Spain to get the fuck off him would only make the idiot want to do more. So, he stared dead ahead at the boring movie, refusing to look at Spain and trying to tell himself he hadn’t just done something monumentally embarrassing and out of character. 

It seemed Spain was either smart enough to keep his mouth shut about it, or the bastard had somehow actually fallen asleep on him since no words of inquisition or surprise arose. Romano hoped it had been the latter. It wasn’t until Spain shifted and a hand gently laced its fingers between Romano’s that he realized he’d been dead wrong. He was very much awake. The rigid nation didn’t immediately jerk away, but his hand became a dead weight in Spain’s warmer one. The Italian had zero clue how to act in this kind of situation. Being a young child centuries ago, he found it simple to shove Spain away and shout insults at the stupid shit he did, but those years were gone. 

He was unable to recall when it started, the feeling of guilt that seized him when he’s push Spain back because of something small like ruffling his hair or calling his name in a way that sounded different than usual. Romano knew why he fought against affection so hard, he was closing himself off. He didn’t want to be hurt by letting someone in and letting them care. It was just his personality type to reject others’ feelings, and save everyone the trouble of bothering with him at all.

After breaking away from his internal struggle of what to do long enough to glance at the time, he saw there were mere minutes until midnight. Romano took a chance and looked down at Spain to see his eyes were shut, the corners of his mouth pulled up in a soft smile. He’d even begun to stroke his thumb over the top of Romano’s hand.

“Hey, S… Spagna” South Italy mentally kicked himself. He meant to say “stupid”, he really did, “Its almost midnight, you know. Weren’t we supposed to do something?” At that, the Spaniard finally sprang into action. His hand released Romano’s, much to the Italian’s unexpected dismay, and rose to his feet.

“Ah, I almost forgot about that.” He headed straight down the hallway cheerfully. “I’ll be right back, I promise!” The nation disappeared from sight, leaving Romano to remain seated on the couch by himself. _No, you know I was just thinking that you were actually leaving my life forever before you said that. Fucking idiot, I wouldn’t be so lucky._ He thought with bitter sarcasm. _He better not have anything dumb planned._ Even as he thought this, South Italy knew it didn’t matter what it was. If the moron was happy, then whatever.

True to his word, and to Romano’s sarcastic dismay, Spain came back in a short amount of time, holding a bottle of champagne and two wine glasses in his hands. He worked quickly to set the glasses down and meticulously pour out some of the bottle’s contents. Romano got up from his spot to come over and read the label. _Fucking FRENCH wine??_

“Didn’t we drink enough during dinner?” Spain shrugged.

“Probably, but France gave this to me because its apparently really good, and I wanted to share it with you.” Romano turned away, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth that spread through his chest. Once he got himself together, his attention returned to Spain.

“I bet the weird bastard drugged it. No thanks.” Romano wrinkled his nose, arms crossed dramatically.

“What- you don’t mean that, do you?” Spain faced him with a look of dejection. A pang of regret hit him. _Don’t fucking look at me like some kicked puppy, you Veneziano copycat._ Waiting for only a moment longer, Romano sighed loudly.

“Ugh, oh my God fine. I’ll drink the wretched stuff, drugs and all. Are you happy?” Despite the bite in his words, Spain laughed.

“Roma, I don’t really mind that, but I am just happy you’re here with me.” There he goes. Saying those kinds of things without thinking. Sometimes, it made Romano want to believe that everything he said to him was the truth.

“Yeah, whatever.” He mumbled quietly. Spain checked the time and excitedly waved to get Romano’s attention. Like that was really necessary. 

“Its midnight!” He took up the glasses and held one out for Romano, who carefully grabbed it. Both clinked their glasses lightly together before each taking a sip, Spain grinning all the while and South Italy feigning disgust. When they pulled back to set their wine glasses down, Romano tried to keep his little scowl. It wasn’t that bad, but still, it’s from France.

“Happy New Year, Roma.” His hazel-green eyes flickered up to meet Spain’s emerald ones, then quickly back down.

“Same to you…” He looked back up to see him stepping closer, an unreadable expression on his face. “What?” Romano asked suspiciously. Spain laughed nervously.

“Ah. There’s this tradition I heard about from America. Uh, its where two people kiss to bring good luck for the year.” The idiot looked so uncharacteristically anxious as he spoke. Romano listened, eyes scanning over him thoughtfully.

“Are you asking my permission or something? It’s not like we haven’t done that before.” Mild confusion laced his voice. He did it all the time when Romano was little and never once did he fucking ask beforehand. Spain shook his head.

“Not a peck or kiss on the cheek, Roma. A real one.” The sentence hung in the air as the Italian stupidly tried to compute what he was going on about. Then it clicked. 

“Oh.” Realization changed to anger fairly quickly as was usual with the hot-headed Italian. “Well, don’t just come out and ask me that kind of thing! You already do whatever the Hell you want anyway!” Spain held up his hands a bit defensively.

“I don’t want to do something you wouldn’t like, though.” His voice faltered alongside his confidence. “I mean, I feel like I forced you to even come here tonight.” Romano glared daggers at him.

“You listen to me, dumbass. You’re dense as shit if you think you could force me into anything. I’d just beat the everloving crap out of you. And saying you don’t want to do something I wouldn’t like. Who are you to speak for me and assume dammit? You clearly don’t know how I feel about you at all, and this had better damn well spell it out for you!” Romano roughly gripped the front of Spain’s shirt with both hands and yanked him forward until their lips clashed.

The kiss was not sweet, nor was it gentle or careful. In fact, he very nearly missed his target, but decided that didn’t matter. He was on a mission. Romano pulled back and released Spain, who was left completely speechless, bright green eyes wide open. They stared at each other for a few more moments, Spain slowly coming back to life and Romano finally sensing the crushing reality of what he’d just done. His face burned, and knowing how people went on about him being red as a tomato when he was embarrassed, South Italy felt all the more reason to be absolutely mortified. _Why did I do that. Why did I do that. Oh my god, WHY DID I DO THAT._ He took a step back.

“I… I didn’t just- Y-you can forget about that!” Romano’s eyes danced around the room, unable to look directly at him anymore. Suddenly, he wanted to be somewhere else, to hide away. The nation went to turn away, but his wrist had been captured in Spain’s tight grasp. He was forced to face the Spaniard who stood inches apart from him.

“Its okay! I get it now, I’m sorry I said that to you, Roma.” Those emerald hues sparkled in amusement. He took Romano’s other wrist in his free hand. “But don’t try to leave after doing something like that.” South Italy did not speak. What was he supposed to say to that anyway? His head hung low, unwilling to let him see the hopeful expression he wore. The Italian would just die of embarrassment. Somehow, without saying a word, it seem he understood the silence, hands sliding down to hold Romano’s firmly.

“If you really did mean all that, would you let us try that again? Just a little less malice, please?” The Italian lifted his head to offer a pout. Spain leaned in, tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes. It became clear he would not come all the way himself, and was waiting for Romano to fill in the gap. _How dare you look so fucking happy with yourself?_ He let out a sigh of resignation.

“...Fuck it.” He breathed out lightly and closed the distance between them. Their lips brushed each other’s delicately as Spain’s scent washed over him. The two slowly kissed, Spain bringing him in deeper, hands tightening around each other. Although it did not last long, South Italy found one thought running through his mind as they separated. _…Okay that was way more intense than I expected._ The moment felt serious enough, heart pounding in his chest, until he heard Spain laughing. Romano’s eyebrows knit together, looking him up and down.

“What the Hell are you laughing at?” The question came out much more relaxed than he’d intended. Spain let go of his hands to wave one of them in dismissal.

“No, its really nothing. This situation is just kind of hard for me to process, but I’m happy. Roma, you make me so happy.” His silly grin widened, and Romano thought he was going to go into cardiac arrest or something.

“You don’t have to be so weird about it. Goddamn.” The pain grew quiet, lost in their own contemplations. Eventually, the Italian found himself stifling a yawn, and the older nation decided not to let it go unnoticed. 

“Come on, we should get to bed. It’s late.” Spain tugged him towards the hallway, and the younger one allowed him. But soon he figured out that they were not heading to the spare bedroom he usually slept in.

“Hey, where do you think you’re taking me?”” South Italy attempted to jerk out of the nation’s grip, but to no avail.

“Hm? What do you mean? To bed of course!” Spain glanced over his shoulder at him. “Oh, come on, Roma. You think that after a display like that I was just going to let you sleep alone tonight? Not a chance. Now I must hold you in my warm Spanish embrace until we fall asleep.” Spain’s upbeat attitude did nothing to settle down the angry younger nation, who looked like a disgruntled cat as he struggled in the Spaniard’s strong grip. _I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO SLEEP WITH YOU BEING THAT CLOSE TO ME,_ his mind screamed, but no way in Hell was he going to say something like that out loud. He’d done more than enough damage for one night.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, crazy bastard!” Romano fought against his grip to where Spain had to wrap an arm around his waist to half-drag and half-carry him the rest of the way.

“Think again, mi amor!” He joyfully hummed in reply as he reached the bedroom. It was strange, the Spaniard had expected much more of a fight than this. Spain closed the door.


	2. Valentine's Day - PruCan

“Nein! West, I’m not ready yet!” Another normal day in Germany’s household. The tall, blonde nation had both arms around Prussia’s waist and was attempting to drag him towards the front door. He’d managed to reach the hallway, but the stubborn elder brother of his had latched onto the frame of a doorway.

“Verdammt, brother, let go of that! You’ve been getting ready for an hour now. We’ll be late to the meeting if you don’t get in the car right this instant!” Germany gave a sharp tug and his brother suddenly lost his grip and was thrown over the younger one’s shoulder. Prussia kicked at the air wildly, screaming German swears as his brother carried him with caution to the vehicle. He was finally shoved into the passenger seat and Germany booked it to the driver’s.

After about ten minutes of being on the road, Prussia was still sulking, arms folded across his chest and an unmistakable pout etched onto his features as he glared his crimson eyes out the window.

_I wanted to slick my hair back! Italy totally would have gone for it._ Not that he thought he needed to change his appearance to look more appealing or anything. He was awesome enough already. Still, the thought of seeing Italy’s face after realizing Prussia looked more attractive with that hairstyle than Germany did, was hard to ignore. Hey, he knew very well his brother and the little Italian were close, but if Germany wasn’t going to make a move dammit, someone had to! After eventually receiving a curt apology from Germany for the earlier rough behavior, his brother found it in him to push it all to the back of his mind for the rest of their car ride.

Arriving mere minutes before the scheduled time, both German brothers rushed into the building to their designated room. Despite giving off the impression he didn’t care most of the time, Prussia liked being late to events about as much as Germany did. Upon entering the large, fully embellished room, Prussia noted that many of the countries were already present and finding somewhere to sit. His red gaze swept the area for any sign of a small, clumsy brunet but found none. He noticed Germany looking around as well, eyes darting to the floor to feign disinterest when they made eye contact.

The two settled for seats beside Japan and Greece, and it wasn’t long before everyone else had done the same. Austria gracefully took his place at the front of the room and called for attention.

“Since most of you are here, let us begin. I know this is technically a ‘meeting’, but do remember it is informal so feel free to wander about and share whatever you wish with your loved ones, friends and family alike. With Hungary’s help, I have provided the music, and the food tables along the walls are for everyone so enjoy.” With a polite bow of his head, Austria stepped away from the speech stand and the nations were left to mingle with each other. Instrumental music rang out from the speakers as Hungary and Austria started their playlist, and although there were several groans from some nations, the instrumentals quite fit the cheery, decorative atmosphere of the room.

Some countries went straight for the food tables, including America of course. Prussia still glanced about, trying to see where Italy was. Germany stayed beside him, making conversation with Japan about how they each celebrated Valentine’s Day in their own countries.

A few minutes later, the double doors of the room swung open, to which Prussia’s head immediately swiveled around in hope. The Italy brothers had finally arrived, and Prussia was quick to lock onto North Italy. Romano noisily yelled at his brother, something about oversleeping, and Italy let out a series of apologies and “ve~”s. Now it was time for Prussia to get Italy’s attention.

“Hey, Italyyyyyyyy!” He swiftly strode over to the younger Italy brother, who’s closed eyes faced his direction as he approached. It was cute the way he always seemed to be half asleep even with his wide-awake demeanor. 

“Ve~ ciao Prussia!” The nation greeted him brightly with a hug. Before the older nation could have a heart attack, Italy stepped back. He tilted his head expectantly, hands folded behind his back, and Prussia suddenly couldn’t figure out what to say. _He’s too cute!_ The albino’s heart beat heavily due to nerves. Maybe he could simply hand over his gift and let the action speak for him, that way he wouldn’t have to say anything too embarrassing. Yeah. Prussia’s hand slid into his pocket and gripped the object in his fist tightly. Just before he could bring it out, Italy’s head turned slightly, and those beautiful auburn eyes opened up before him.

“Germany! Hey Germany, over here!” The younger male shouted in a high voice and waved an arm as he darted passed the Prussian. Said Prussian turned in time to see his brother getting tackled, well, the way a kitten would look trying to tackle a big dog anyway. Germany’s face flushed a deep red at the surprise hug and didn’t seem to know what to do with his arms. Italy looked up at the blonde without letting go and bounced excitedly. He reached into the pocket of his coat and practically threw a bag of homemade chocolates into Germany’s face. Prussia found himself looking away from the scene rather dejectedly.

He always did know about it. He’d always seen the way Italy came to life when Germany was around, like a bolt of electricity had restarted his heart. Prussia had been trying for a few years now to gain North Italy’s affection, even knowing deep down all the while that not he, nor any other nation for that matter, could make him light up the way his own brother could.

After so many centuries of war and distress and one-sided love, Prussia simply wanted happiness. It so happened he found this while looking at Italy. The country was so adorable and charismatic, how could he not give it a shot?

However, glancing back at the two and seeing his brother’s normally stern face dissolve into contentment while he listened to the Italian ramble, Prussia’s stomach churned guiltily. He didn’t think it was so wrong to want to be happy, but maybe he’d be better off not trying to get in the middle of a love that had already existed for centuries, whether the two in question realized it or not. 

Scanning the room for someone to bother, France, Hungary, Austria, anyone, his eyes landed on Romano. South Italy, huh? From what he knew, the older Italian brother had a temper and a bad mouth, but he and Italy shared many of the same features. Though Romano was taller and darker, he still had a small figure and the same attractive face almost like his twin. They couldn’t be that different, right? Prussia advanced on the nation, who was busy spitting insults at France, and heard the distinct “honhonhon” as the Frenchman disappeared into the crowd.

“Hallo, Romano!” He greeted the Italian with all the confidence he could muster. South Italy turned to him, arms folded over his chest and a glare in his hazel-green hues. Prussia stood in front of him, posture relaxed and hands on his hips, lips curled into his usual shit-eating grin.

“Oh great, what do you want, other potato bastard?” This one looked completely unimpressed already. Still, Prussia was going to try. He was kind of suffering a major heartbreak at the moment. He stepped closer, invading Romano’s personal space so he was able to look down at him.

“You know, you’re cuter than Italy. And more interesting if I’m honest.” He kept up the arrogant facade in his voice and hoped his comment caught the Italian off guard. It worked. His expression seemed to be caught between disbelief, anger, and embarrassment. Finally, he managed to stutter something out, face turning red.

“So, you’re comparing me to my fratellino? Do you want to get punched in the face?” Prussia knew he would be threatened, but at least he seemed flustered. The albino smoothly cupped Romano’s cheek with one hand. Instantly, the Italian’s face turned a darker shade. _Wow, he really does look like a tomato._

“No, of course not. I was actually wondering if an angel like you would be interested in getting to know me in a more personal way.” His face inched closer as he spoke, searching Romano’s shocked eyes.

It was a swift movement, one good hit to the face. Prussia abruptly found his head turned to the side, the area throbbing instantly from the impact. South Italy pulled back his clenched fist, the curl on his head completely frazzled.

“Why does Spain keep you idiots around? Ugh, both you and France are such creeps! If you’re going to seduce someone, why don’t you seduce each other, dammit!” Romano spun around on his heels and ran, face still the color of a tomato. _Been there, done that,_ Prussia thought with a hint of bitterness, _The kid’s stronger than he looks. Scheisse._ He stood for a moment longer, gently caressing his bruising face. Then, someone placed a hand on his shoulder to which he peered over and saw Spain. The country smiled sympathetically.

“You know, mi amigo, I was about to kick your ass, but I guess Roma did that for me.” Spain laughed musically, giving Prussia’s shoulder a dangerous squeeze before strolling off carelessly in Romano’s direction. A chill raced down Prussia’s spine. Thinking about it now, the German realized he had forgotten about the fact that best friend or not, Spain would literally kill him if he touched South Italy.

Sighing in defeat, the Prussian wandered over to the food table on the other side, where America was still shoveling food into his mouth. He stood to the side of him a bit, trying to find something to eat that didn’t look mostly gone already. He stayed there for a while, hardly touching a thing until a soft gasp caught his attention.

Someone had come over to the table and now stood between America and himself. Prussia’s crimson eyes flickered over to meet violet ones behind the lenses of a round pair of glasses. The fairly young country’s look was soft and had features identical to America, wavy blonde hair framing the structure of his face. 

Both of their heads snapped away at first, Prussia reminded of the searing mark on his face and the other embarrassed at his verbal expression to the wound. The albino decided to suck it up after a long, awkward moment and forced himself to face the nation again, signature smirk finding its way back to him. 

“What, surprised at seeing the awesome me?” He let his voice fill with arrogance once more. “Don’t feel too intimidated by my presence, Canada.” That fished out an interesting reaction. Canada’s head turned back to Prussia, hair moving with an elegant bounce. 

“Y-you know who I am…?” God his voice was so quiet, Prussia had to read the words on his lips to get the gist of it. 

“Of course. I’m too awesome not the know everyone.” He laughed loudly. Prussia knew Canada went largely ignored, unless he was being mistaken for the trouble making America. It was only after years of being ignored himself and observing the things going on around him that Prussia noticed someone else doing the same. “You have yourself a Valentine or something this year?” Canada’s pale cheeks dusted lightly with a blush.

“N-no, I’m just here to keep America from inhaling the entire table.” America who had perked up upon hearing his name, let out an indignant noise of offense. Prussia immediately cackled at the sight of food all over the blonde’s face, like he really had tried to inhale the table already. 

“Well maybe if he was able to get most of it IN his mouth instead of ON.” Prussia joked, laughing harder and placing a hand on his side. America gave them both a childish pout and snatched up the last slice of chocolate cake before sprinting off with surprising speed. Prussia gasped in horror. “Ah damn, I wanted some cake!” The sweet giggle that escaped Canada threw him off completely, his body heating up at the sound. The Canadian met his intense gaze and slowly became quiet and sheepish again. 

“What happened to your face, by the way? I-I’m sorry, only if you don’t mind…” Canada came closer, reaching up to lightly brush his fingers across Prussia’s cheek to examine the full extent of the hit. The now clueless nation had a hard time fixating on one thing; Canada’s genuine look of concern, the way his fingers ghosted over his still tender skin, or how close they suddenly were. The albino gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

“It’s nothing the awesome nation of Prussia can’t handle.” He grinned wolfishly, “It’s nice to see that someone around here cares.” The younger nation laughed nervously. His shyness sure was… alluring. A lot of things about him were, as Prussia was starting to figure out.

“Oh, brother, there you are.” Germany’s deep voice snapped them both out of a trance neither realized they were in, Prussia giving a start and Canada pulling his hand back as though he’d been burned. They both turned to the large nation who had an Italian secured to his arm. “We have to leave soon, there’s still work to be done back home.” Prussia deflated. The day had just livened up and here his brother was going to kill the mood. North Italy let go of Germany just long enough to squeeze Prussia in another hug.

“Ve~ don’t think we haven’t seen that mark on your face.” He gazed up at Prussia’s puzzled look and giggled. “Fratello just yelled at us about it. You should’ve known he was going to hit you. He barely lets big brother Spain talk that way to him.” His sing-songy taunt served only to make Prussia’s face burn with shame.

“I hope you have learned your lesson about playing with fire. Really, hitting on such an unwilling party.” Germany said, head shaking in disapproval as he joined in on humiliating his brother.

“T-that’s because I wasn’t really trying, West. If I wanted someone, I could make them melt, dammit!” Prussia quickly defended himself, feeling oddly conscious of Canada’s presence now more than he ever had. He chanced a look over to see those violet hues gauging him closely, almost with a look of resignation.

“I don’t think you can make anyone melt with what you call flirting.” Germany countered. The item in Prussia’s pocket weighed heavily, almost reminding him it was still there and had no one to be received by. This gave him an idea.

He swiped the pen that was always in Germany’s front pocket, and took out the small box he’d been holding all day. Prussia scribbled down his phone number on its top before thrusting it into Canada’s face. Confusion reflected in his eyes, but he nonetheless accepted it. Even after reading the phone number, Canada blinked a few times as though not really seeing it. Or believing it. Prussia closed the distance between them, making sure they were only an inch or so apart.

“They’re German chocolates.” He explained, pushing away the odd feeling of sheepishness. His voice was low as he ran a hand smoothly down Canada’s arm. His other hand lightly tipping Canada’s chin up so he could look directly at him. “You can text me later and let me know if you like them, or if maybe you happen to like Germans in general. Specifically me... Wow, sorry about that. I-I’m not usually this bad at talking to people I find attractive.” He stepped back and saw the Canadian was burning bright red, violet eyes wide and lips parted in shock. The Prussian waited a few seconds for him to say something, or at least move. The younger of the two only managed to stutter incoherently, hands holding onto the box for dear life. 

“Well,” Germany cleared his throat, reminding them of the other two who were watching the exchange, “I stand corrected.” Italy, enthralled by the interaction, nodded vigorously.

“Yep, he’s thoroughly melted!” He agreed. Prussia’s gaze shifted between the two, silently asking for one of them to help him. It turned out not to be necessary as a hand tugged at the sleeve of his uniform, which he turned to see was Canada.

“Th-thank you. I will be sure to text you tonight then.” The color in his face was fading back to its usual pale, but Prussia just felt relieved he hadn’t actually broken him or something. He smirked, and confidence returned in the straightness of his posture.

“I’ll look forward to it.” The quiet nation nodded and released his grip, offering him a hopeful smile as Germany began to drag his conceited brother by the collar towards the door. He didn’t fight it much this time, but continuously waved his goodbyes with a silly grin on his face until they left the room and Canada had vanished from his line of sight.


End file.
